Deceit (21 page)

Indignation rolled up Melissa’s spine. Linda was beautiful and smart. She could live her own life. “Why don’t you
leave
?”

Linda turned world-weary, resigned eyes upon her. “I love him.”

“How
can
you, when he treats you like that?”

A long moment passed as Linda’s gaze fastened upon Melissa, as if staring into the depths of her. “Why don’t
you
leave?”

Melissa’s jaw flexed. Just what was
that
supposed to mean? Anger bubbled within, her mind flashing through a series of pictures. The trashy trailer she grew up in…her drunken mother’s slit-eyed, hateful looks…bruises on Melissa’s body…her bedroom at the Jacksons’ house…Baxter’s face. Melissa stared back at Linda, her mouth hardening. “Because my life right now is a hundred times better than where I came from.”

A hint of a pained, knowing smile flickered across Linda’s lips. Her expression read so many things at once. That at sixteen, what did Melissa understand, and who was she to judge? That she could not begin to know Linda’s heartache, because she’d never been betrayed by the man she loved. (Stepfathers and a lousy mother didn’t count?) That Melissa would change her tune in a hurry if Baxter started mistreating
her
. (
That
would never happen.) Linda opened her mouth—maybe to say one of these things, maybe to say them all. Then she closed it. She turned away.

Baxter’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Melissa swiveled to a drawer and started pulling out utensils. Linda opened the oven door and slid out a pan of baked salmon.

Dinner went pretty well, although all three of them were quiet. Melissa figured the church meeting was a point for Linda’s side. It wouldn’t do for Baxter to hit her too close to her seeing her church friends. She might get all teary, and how to explain that?

Or maybe he just had other things on his mind.

Melissa could hardly eat. Her veins burned. She hated Baxter’s abuse of his wife, but neither did she like Linda’s know-more-than-you attitude. Fact was, Linda got hit because she wouldn’t stand up for herself. She was an
adult
, not the kid Melissa had been in her trailer days. If Linda really thought Baxter was so bad, she’d march into church and tell everyone the truth about her husband. Press charges against him. And if her friends and the police didn’t believe her story—show them her bruises. But she wasn’t about to do that, was she? Because Linda knew the truth. She was the only one in the world Baxter treated like that. Everyone else knew him as a great man. The problem lay with
her
, not
him.

After dinner Melissa did the dishes while Linda prepared to leave. At exactly 7:25 she pulled out of the garage on her way to church. The perfect volunteer, never late.

Baxter was watching TV in the den, sitting on his end of the couch. Flipping through channels, as usual. Melissa went upstairs to brush her teeth, then joined him on the opposite end of the sofa. For five minutes they were silent, staring at the TV, seeing nothing. The air between them shimmied. Then it rippled. Melissa found herself breathing fast and shallow, trying hard not to show it. Baxter crossed his legs male-style, one ankle against the other knee. Feigning relaxation. A man in his castle at the end of a work day, chilling out.

His muscles itched. Melissa felt it.

The channels kept switching, as if all of Baxter’s energy released through his thumb. Local news to an old movie to a commercial to another commercial to a cop show. Baxter returned to the movie. Some oldie that didn’t look a bit interesting. They watched it for a couple minutes.

Abruptly Baxter leaned forward, as if yanked by a noose. Melissa watched from the corner of her eye. He focused on the remote, eyes searching for some button. His finger moved, and he pressed. The sound muted.

Melissa turned her head and looked at him.

Baxter dropped the remote. He gazed back at Melissa, lips pressing.

He rose and crossed the four steps to her end of the couch. Sat down beside her. His eyes darkened with guilt-ridden hunger.

The next thing she knew they were in each other’s arms.

FORTY-TWO

FEBRUARY 2010

“Who are you calling?” Suspicion sharpened Melissa’s voice. I’d already punched in the number, my stomach trembling. If this didn’t work, I had no back-up plan.

“My brother.”

Rain began to fall. A few drops, then steady. Perry switched on the wipers. We were on El Camino, a major street in San Jose.

“He doesn’t live in Vonita, does he?” Melissa pressed. “I’m not setting foot in Vonita!”

“If I’d wanted to take you to Vonita, we’d go to Perry’s.” The line began to ring in my ear. “He lives in Hollister.”

Perry gave me another sideways glance but said nothing. Hollister was the San Benito County seat. We’d need to head south, then veer east.

Second ring. I checked the car’s digital clock. Nine-forty. On a Sunday night. Dan would certainly wonder when he saw my caller ID.

The third ring cut off in the middle. “Hello, Joanne?”

Dan’s reedy voice vibrated in my ear. I clicked down the volume. “Yeah, Dan, it’s me. Sorry to call you so late, but I need to come over.”

“Right now?”

Dan stood six-two, a wiry man in his mid-fifties. Divorced, kids grown. A no-nonsense kind of guy. His unlikely combination of dark hair and intense blue eyes commanded attention. That piercing gaze could bore right through a person when he wanted to make a point. Which was often.

“I have to see you now. I’ve…run into some trouble. Got shot at. It’s not safe for me to go home.”

“
Shot
at! By some skip?”

“Look, could I just come and talk? I’ll tell you about it.”

“Want police here?”

“
No
. No police.”

Melissa made a gasping sound. “
No!
”

“All right,” Dan said. “You coming from Vonita?”

“Mountain View, so it’ll be a little while. And, Dan, when we get there—”

“We?”

I winced. Hadn’t meant to let that slip just yet. “I’ve got two people with me. I’ll call you when we’re on your street. Can you watch for us and let us in quickly?”

“Joanne, if you think you’re still in danger, I’ll call the police. They’ll intercept you wherever you are and escort you here.”

“No. Please. Just trust me on this one. Okay?”

He hesitated. “All right. But once you get here, I call the shots.”

That was Dan—always gaining control. A fighter by birth. If Melissa thought Perry had been short-tempered with her, wait till she got in Dan’s face. “Fine by me.”

The rain became a downpour as I hung up.

Perry turned on 87 South toward Gilroy, where we’d catch 101 and then Highway 25 into Hollister. The drive was close to fifty miles. In the rain—over an hour.

“Tell me, Joanne.” Melissa tapped me on the shoulder. “Tell me how to disappear.”

“Let’s wait till we get to Dan’s house.”

“Just tell me about getting a new ID. You know people who can get me one?”

A faint smile crossed Perry’s lips.

“Buying a fake ID is what you
don’t
want to do,” I told her. “How do you know whose life you’re buying? She could have warrants out on her, unpaid parking tickets, creditors after her. Something, anything that would cause authorities to come looking for you. That’s exactly what you don’t need.”

“So what do I do?”

My eyes closed. I leaned back against the headrest. “You keep your own ID. And learn how not to leave a trail.”

One thing I remembered about Melissa—when she needed to learn something for her own advantage, she learned it. Linda had bragged how quickly she picked up the necessary skills for working in Baxter’s office.

“Is it complicated?” Melissa’s tone had returned to one of reined-in excitement, as if she relished the challenge.

“Yes. You’ll have to keep at it. One slip—and someone like me can catch you.”

“I want to know!”

“We’ll talk when we get to Dan’s.”

“Tell me
now
.”

“When we get to Dan’s.”

She argued. I wouldn’t budge. After a time she muttered a curse and fell silent. Wonderful Perry said nothing. I wished I could talk to him, tell him how grateful I was. Later. When this was all over.

My eyes remained closed. I drifted, the drum of raindrops fading. A blanket settled over my brain, warm and smothering…

The next thing I knew Perry was pushing my shoulder. “Joanne.”.

“Hmm?” My mouth moved before my mind engaged. I opened my eyes, blinked a few times. The rain had stopped. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah. We’re just outside Hollister. Where do I go?”

“Oh. Okay.” I sat up straight and stretched my neck one way, then the other. Tried to shake loose the fog in my head. Not a sound from the backseat. I twisted around. Melissa sat with arms folded. Her eyes met mine, then cut away. The meaning was clear. I’d told her she had to wait for what she wanted, made her subservient. To Melissa, an unpardonable sin.

I pictured the upcoming scene at Dan’s house, and a chill trickled down my spine.

My focus turned to the road. “Turn right at the next stoplight, Perry.” I fished my phone from my purse and called Dan. “We’re here. See you in about three minutes.”

“I’ll be watching.”

Melissa’s clothes rustled. “I don’t see why we had to come all the way down here.”

“You see anybody following us?” Perry shot her a look in the rearview mirror.

“No.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

“There’s the street—Maxley Lane.” I pointed. “Turn left. It’s the third house down on the right.”

We pulled up to Dan’s place, a white stucco rancher with black shutters. Stark-colored and neat, like its owner. I’d last been here on a weekend to pick up some last-minute papers on a skip.

“Okay, Melissa.” I grabbed my purse. “Let’s go.”

“About time.”

I breathed a prayer.

The door of the house opened as we piled out of the car. Dan stood silhouetted in his entryway, one hand low on his hip. We scurried up the short sidewalk, tense to be out in the open, even though no one could have followed us. Our host stepped back, ushering us in with a wave of his arm, as if hurrying along errant children. We stopped in the hallway. Dan closed and locked the door.

“Joanne.” He nodded at me. He was wearing jeans and loafers, a tucked-in long-sleeve shirt. His gaze moved to my companions.

“This is Melissa.” I touched her arm, feeling her stiffness. She muttered a hello, both hands clasping her purse in front of her. “And Perry.” The two men shook hands.

Melissa’s eyes darted from Dan to me, making comparisons. Clearly, we didn’t look a thing alike.

“Let’s go sit down.” Dan gestured toward his living room.

We followed him in. Dan and Perry settled in matching armchairs, Melissa and I on opposite ends of a couch, facing them. I made sure she took the side further into the room. We placed our purses on the floor. She cast me a look that read
this better not take long.
Her own agenda to glean from me all she could played out in the impatient shake of her right leg, her fidgeting fingers. Perry sat with back straight, large hands spread on his thighs. Alertness and keen curiosity shone in his eyes. He surveyed Melissa and her handbag, directly across from him, then focused on me.

A trickle of sweat itched the nape of my neck.
Here we go
. I didn’t know enough about the law to grasp exactly how my scheme would play out. But one thing I did know. Melissa was packing a gun that wasn’t registered in her name, not to mention that she didn’t even have a permit to carry it.

My dry throat swallowed. I desperately wanted Jelly Bellies. Wild Blackberry and Piña Colada.

“Dan.” I licked my lips and plunged in. “Melissa’s last name is Harkoff. She was a foster child in the home of Baxter and Linda Jackson when Linda disappeared. You remember that case.”

“Of course. Unsolved murder.”

Melissa swiveled toward me. “What’re you—”

“Melissa can solve it. She saw Baxter kill Linda. She knows where the body is buried.” I turned to Melissa. Her jaw was set and hard, her eyes boring into mine. “Melissa, this is Dan Marlahn. District attorney of San Benito County.”

Before Melissa could move, Perry shoved from his chair and snatched the gun-toting purse away from her feet.

FORTY-THREE

AUGUST 2004

The Jackson house of cards wasn’t going to fall. It was about to explode.

By the third week of August Melissa could barely sleep. Nightmares of her dead mother had returned with fury. And every minute of the day felt electrified. She and Baxter had so little time to be alone. Linda had attended two more church volunteer meetings at night—that was it. The rest of the time Baxter and Melissa were near each other, yet so far. Their presence in the same room became a live wire, her nerves thrumming with his every move. She knew he felt it too, maybe even more. In the office there was no privacy because of the large window looking out to the hall. When Melissa and Baxter were at home with Linda the sparks between the two of them popped wildly. One wrong move, one lustful look intercepted by Linda would be gasoline on embers.

Melissa quickly learned how to handle Baxter—the poster man for duplicity. She knew he admired her stubborn determination and strength, even as he needed to control the women in his life. Each day in the office she asserted herself a little more. Hadn’t she earned that right? It was all a balance. The more self-assured and poised she acted, the more he wanted her. The more he wanted her, the stronger she became.

Slow business didn’t help the situation any. Sales were down for the second month in a row. Some big house would nearly sell, then the deal would fall through. After losing five sales in a row Baxter accused God of cursing him.

“Oh, come on, Baxter, things will pick up again.” Melissa’s fingers poised over her computer keyboard. “That’s what
you
always say.”